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Taylor is awake. I wonder if he’s slept at all. “What’s the time?” I ask as Beighley brings the plane to a stop at the end of the runway.
“It’s ten after four.”
“That’s early. Will we be met?”
“I did e-mail Ryan. Let’s hope he got the message.” We both switch on our phones at the same time.
Shit. I have several messages. And judging by the irritating notifications coming from his phone, so does Taylor. There’s a text and missed call from Ana. I read her text first.
ANA
I’M STILL IN ONE PIECE.
I HAD A NICE TIME.
MISSING YOU—PLEASE DON’T BE MAD.
Too late, Ana.
At least she missed me.
She’s left a voice mail, which I listen to next. Her voice is breathy and anxious. “Hi. It’s me. Please don’t be mad. We’ve had an incident at the apartment. But it’s under control, so don’t worry. No one is hurt. Call me.”
What the fuck?
And my first thought is Leila has broken in again. Maybe it was her driving the Dodge. When I glance at Taylor, his face is ashen. “Hyde was caught in the apartment. Ryan took him down. He’s in police custody,” he says.
My world grinds to a screeching halt.
“Ana?” I whisper, as all the breath evaporates from my body.
“She’s fine.”
“Gail?”
“She’s fine, too.”
“What the hell?”
“Exactly.” Taylor looks as shaken as I feel. The plane taxies to a stop, and I call Ana immediately, but her phone goes straight to voice mail.
Shit.
Hyde. In the apartment? How? Why? What?
I’m trying to wrap my head around this, but exhaustion is clouding my thinking. Ana’s not answering; she must be asleep. I hope so. I’m relieved she’s okay, but I need to see her to make sure. Stephan has opened the aircraft door, and the early morning chill seeps into the main cabin and my bones. Shivering, I get up, and take my jacket from Taylor, who is first off the plane.
“Thanks, Beighley. Stephan,” I say, as I don my tux jacket to ward off the cool pre-dawn air.
“You’re welcome, sir,” she says.
“No. I mean it. Thank you. For the last-minute scramble of it all.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Get some rest.” I shake both their hands and follow Taylor out to where Sawyer is waiting with the Audi.
Sawyer gives us a debrief during the drive back to Escala. While Ana and Kate were carousing at the Zig Zag Café, Hyde, dressed in coveralls, arrived at Escala and buzzed the apartment service entrance. Ryan recognized him. Let him in. And took him down. This all happened just before Ana, Sawyer, and Prescott returned home. The police and paramedics came. Took Hyde away. They questioned everyone.
What the actual fuck!
“Was he armed?” Taylor asks.
“Yes,” Sawyer responds.
“Is Ryan okay?” I ask.
“Yes. But there was an altercation. One of the doors needs repair.”
“Altercation?” I don’t believe it!
“They fought.”
Fuck. “But Ryan’s okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Gail. She was there?” Taylor presses.
“In the panic room.”
Thank you, Ros Bailey! I glance at Taylor, who rubs his forehead, his eyes screwed shut.
Hell. Both of our women threatened by that evil motherfucker Hyde.
“Who called the police?” Taylor asks.
“I did. Mrs. Grey insisted.”
“She did the right thing,” I mutter. “What the hell was he hoping to achieve?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Sawyer replies. “One more thing. The press were outside last night.”
Damn. And after they’d lost interest in us. This day just keeps getting better and better, and it’s only—I glance at my watch—4:40 a.m.
“Ryan didn’t get your e-mail until he turned in,” Sawyer says. “It was too late to let everyone know you were on your way back.”
“So Ana and Gail don’t know,” I ask.
“No, sir.”
“Okay.”
We’re quiet for the rest of the short journey. Each of us with our own haunting thoughts. If Ana had been home, she’d have been in the panic room with Gail, and Ryan would have had backup and wouldn’t have had to face Hyde alone.
Why can’t she do as she’s told?
Sawyer parks the Audi in the garage, and both Taylor and I fly out of the car and into the elevator.
“Glad we came home when we did,” I say to Taylor.
“Yes, sir.” He nods in agreement.
“What a fucking mess.”
“Indeed.” He remains tight-lipped.
“We should have a full debrief when everyone has had some sleep.”
“Agreed.”
The elevator doors open and we spill out into the foyer, each of us with one goal: to check on our woman. I head straight for our bedroom, and I know that’s exactly what Taylor is doing. I barrel down the hallway and into the room, grateful that the thick carpet absorbs the sound of my footsteps.
Ana is fast asleep on my side of the bed. She’s curled up in a small ball, wearing one of my T-shirts.
She’s here.
She’s fine.
My relief almost brings me to my knees, but I stand and watch her. I can’t risk touching her, as I know I’ll wake her if I do.
